


Killing Time

by LockedBox



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fun With Foreign Swears, Gen, MBWLAYWGS, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Siblings, a little fluff, a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockedBox/pseuds/LockedBox
Summary: Corbin and Eloise find a way to pass the time.





	Killing Time

Eloise produced the deck of cards from under her blouse with a triumphant grin, and set them down on the floorboards in from of them.

 

“These look _new_ ,” Corbin exclaimed. They never got anything new. Clothes always came third, or even fourth hand, threadbare and patched at the joints, and would normally lose the armpits and inseams after a few months of wear, no matter how careful they were with them, shoes were bought with the tread worn out, and they’d be lucky to get any the right size at all, blankets and linens were likewise stained and moth eaten, and playthings, well, they got what they were given and were grateful for it, or so they were so often told. Truth was, they didn’t have any to be grateful for. He took a card from the top of the deck and turned it over, looking at it curiously, the edges of the cards were crisp and unbent, and were printed in bright, indigo blue, untouched by damp, sun or soot. The Jack of Hearts grinned back at him, jolly in his red and black suit.

 

“You nicked ‘em, didn’t you?” he accused. Eloise had never been shy about taking things they couldn’t otherwise get, either because they couldn’t afford them or because Ma and Pa just couldn’t be bothered. Corbin swore up and down that it would get her in trouble one day, but she never listened.

 

Eloise huffed, and frowned at him reproachfully, but she didn’t deny it. Corbin levelled his best glare at her, and she scoffed at him, but buckled all the same.

 

“I found them in the glory chest,” she whispered.

 

“You rifled through there? Pa’ll kill us if he finds us with these,” he hushed, dropping the card like it had burned him.

 

The glory chest was an enormous wooden steamer trunk that their father kept at the foot of his bed, locked up tight with a brass padlock. Inside was his _inheritance_ , as he so liked to call it. He said they came from money, that their grandparents were rich and important before the industry went bust. It sounded like crap, but he seemed to believe it, and there wasn’t much point in trying to prove otherwise. The steamer held what few bits and pieces were left of their grandparents possessions, and he defended them like a dragon did gold. The only one of them stupid enough to try it was Nate, he’d snuck in under the pretence of polishing his boots for him, and nicked a fancy pipe made from rosewood and bone. He’d clenched it in between his teeth while he sold newspapers on the corner, damp newsprint smouldering in the bowl so it looked like he was smoking. They couldn’t afford real tobacco, but with the pipe for a prop, he managed to con folk into lending him a pinch or two. He’d bragged about it, about how brave and virile he thought it made him, about the taste of the tobacco and the pleasure of the smoke, and of course, after that Pa caught the idiot out. Pa dragged him out the house by his ear and caned him harder than he’d ever been caned in his entire life, which was saying a fair bit, all things being equal. No one had dared to touch it since.

 

“I’m not daft, if he knew it was me in there he’d have my hide. But you know how to keep your mouth shut, so long as he don’t see them, he’ll never know, now will he?” Eloise whispered, winking at him.

 

“But what if he notices they’re gone?” Corbin hissed back, his gaze darting left and right out of instinct, as if their father would pop out from between the floorboards like a jack in the box and catch them red handed.

 

“He won’t. They came in a box. I stuffed some sawdust in it to make it nice and heavy and put it back where I found it. He won’t know they’re gone unless he opens it, and do these look like they’ve ever bin opened?” she said, she crossed her arms over her chest and grinned broadly at her own cleverness. Corbin had to admit, the plan seemed pretty fool proof.

 

“Guess not,” he conceded, and picked up the jack again, flipping it over and over between his fingers.

 

“So, you know any games for two people then?” she asked.

 

“What, no, why would I?” he huffed, indignantly.

 

“You work at a dock! Don’t the sailors teach you anythin?” Eloise tutted, her hands on her hips.

 

“Yeah, for two weeks! All I’ve learned is how to tie a bunch of knots, carry heavy shit without falling over, and a couple of foreign curses,” Corbin scoffed.

 

“ _Ohh?_ ” Eloise leaned forward, her interest peaked now. She grinned her head cocked to one side, and leaned forwards, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers in a bid to seem innocent.

 

“No. You’ll use them and they’ll blame me,” Corbin said, flatly. That he actually would be responsible was of little consequence, responsible or not, he always got blamed for that shite. Ma said he was a bad influence on the younger kids, but he swore they knew more curses then he did. That’s just what happened when you worked on the streets, but she was never one to listen to reason.

 

“Oh come on! You can’t tell me that and then hold out! Just tell me one, a real subtle one?” she whined.

 

“What makes you think I’d learn subtle insults from sailors?” Corbins snorted.

 

Eloise pulled a face like she was winding up for a retort, but thought better of it, her shoulder slumping as she conceded the point.

 

“Well, fine then, be that way, see if I do anything nice for you again,” she muttered, crestfallen.

 

Corbin sighed. He hated it when she made that face. He chewed his lip for a moment, then quickly propped himself up on his elbows and looked of to the side, checking the hatch to the loft was down, and strained his ears for sound. The house was quiet, a low chorus of snores and sleeping grunts the only thing audible. Satisfied, he leaned in closer to her.

 

“Pisvlek,” he whispered quickly.

 

“ _Ooo_ , what’s it mean?” she rubbed her hands together, and though her voice was carefully lowered, she couldn’t hide her gee.

 

“No idea, but it’s Dutch and one of the deckhands called another one that, and he got punched in the face for the trouble, so it must be pretty serious,” Corbin said.

 

“ _Pisvlek_ ,” she parroted, Corbin flinched and eyed the hatch instinctively. “Pis- _vl_ -ek, it sounds like some kind of disease don’t it? Oh Mother can’t possibly get out of bed this morning, she’s come down with a nasty case of _pisvlek_ ,” she snorted, and hid her face behind her hand as she laughed.

 

Corbin barked with laughter, cracking a grin a last.

 

“That or some kind of pest. Someone call the ratcatcher, pisvlek have got into the cellars again!” he said, and they broke out hushed giggles together, twittering between themselves.

 

“Oh, or, or, some kind of weather, look it’s _pisvleking_ down out there!” she exclaimed.

 

As if on cue, there was a crack of thunder, and the heavens opened, rain pelting down in earnest. The sound echoed about the crawlspace like gunfire.

 

“Well, now look what you’ve gone and done,” Corbin deadpanned, and Eloise cracked up completely, she bit into her wrist to muffle the noise, but her laughter came through all the same, and she laughed so hard that tears were in her eyes, she flopped backward, drumming her heels against the floor.

 

She calmed, after a minute, but she didn’t get back up. She lay there, splayed out on her back, her hair mussed and at odd angles, smiling widely.

 

“How did you get into the chest, anyway?” he asked.

 

She sobered a little at that, and sat back up.

 

“Nicked the key while Ma was kipping a couple weeks ago. Waited a while to make sure he wouldn’t notice then got in while he was out doing god knows what, as usual, stashed em in one of our hidey holes out in the shed, then waited longer to be sure he didn’t miss ‘em. You know that there’s just junk in there, right?” she said.

 

“Nate said there were all sorts of things in there,” he said, realizing how stupid the sentence sounded the moment it left his mouth.

 

“All sorts of junk,” she scoffed. “Of course Nate would talk it up, it’s Nate,” Eloise scowled.

 

Corbin hummed, nodding in agreement.

 

“Still Nate found that pipe in there, and these are pretty nice,” he said, picking up the cards and fanning them out idly, “You sure there wasn’t anything else good in there?”

 

“Nah, it’s just junk. A couple old books, ledgers mind, no good stuff. Some dusty old boxes and shit fake china in a beat up suitcase, a couple of boring lithographs, and there was this coat. Only other nice thing left in there, big green military coat, the kind with those tasselly shoulder things,” she said, and held her hands up to her shoulders, spread her fingers and wiggled them

 

“Epaulets?”

 

“Yeah, them. That’s where I found these actually. There were in one of the pockets.”

 

“A coat would be good,” he said, thinking of his own winter coat. He’d had a nicer one, but one of their brothers, Sullivan, fourth eldest, had outgrown his, and since they couldn’t afford a new one Corbin had been forced to give him his, since he was the only one short enough to fit Sullivans old coat, and big enough to give him one that would fit better in return, though “fit” was a matter of perspective. The damn thing was too tight across the shoulders and the seams were giving out all down the back. Eloise let it out as much as she could, but it was just too damn small. If he was lucky he might get a new one next winter, but knowing their folks it was unlikely. He always got the shaft when it came to clothes, his own fault for being so damn short, apparently.

 

“Don’t be daft. He’d notice that in a heartbeat. Besides, whoever had it before cut off all the buttons. Probably for scrap or something, and that thing must’ve had dozens of buttons. It’d takes ages to fix up, and longer to fit for you, it’s not worth it,” she said, dismissively.

 

“So all you got to show for it is a deck of cards, which we don’t know how to use,” Corbin deadpanned.

 

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds daft,” she said, and crossed her arms defensively.

 

“You _are_ daft,” he said.

 

“Hmph, and to think I called you my brother,” she shook her head, eyes closed solemnly.

 

“Not by my choice, I promise you,” Corbin barked back.

 

“Well I _never_ ,” she said, putting her nose up in the air and spreading a fake posh accent on thick, but she grinned all the same, and when Corbin started laughing she followed suit.

 

They wrapped up the cards in a clean rag, and stashed it in their usual hiding spot, in a hollow brick by the chimney breast, and settled to bed.

 

They didn’t think much about the cards after that. They had too much shite to do, he had to work down at the dock, loading coal and water on board and off board, and Eloise worked at one of the few business in Coalford that still did fairly well, and old smokery that had predated the boom, where she gutted fish and shucked oysters, depending on the season. The rest of the kids found work were they could, though some were better than others, and the old folks continued to be utterly useless.

 

He did, over time, pick up a few things from the sailors. Among them, a game called cribbage, which was meant for two players.


End file.
